


As I gaze into the abyss

by Enygma0710



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Biological Warfare, F/M, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Hybrid Westeros, I will add tags as I go, I will give you a heads up for trigger warnings, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Magic still exist, Mystery, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, bio-medical research, but it's taboo, real science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enygma0710/pseuds/Enygma0710
Summary: The end was in sight when they closed the Craster investigation. Jon and his team thought they would be back to their normal surveillance missions with the Night Watch. That was until Pyp discovered an encrypted file with the image of a mysterious silver hair person.Note: I have a tendency of giving grey summaries and not giving away anything. I don't see why I should stop, but if your curious it's a race against the clock action/adventure/mystery with some romance thrown in for fun.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

The earpiece in his right ear chirped three times, “Go ahead.”

 

“It’s two clicks to the northeast, you should be hitting the perimeter in a few minutes.”

 

Jon tapped his earpiece and motioned his team to continue. Grenn was to his right and Tormund to the left with Edd covering the rear. Jon heard a snap to his left and held up his hand. The men stopped and listened. Tormund gestured to the furry foxlike creature that darted in front of them as the culprit that had disturbed the forest floor.

 

“Alright boys, according to the Halfhand, there is perimeter check just a few feet ahead. This is the first of several barriers,” Pyp’s voice sounded through their earpieces. Grenn stepped forward and sprayed the air with pressurized liquid nitrogen, briefly exposing a beam of red light, indicating the perimeter.

 

“This is some serious security for a dodgy crackpot, eh?”

 

Jon smirked and nodded at Edd. “Pyp, do you think you can hack into the system?”

 

“If you find access, I can crack it.” Tormund and Grenn walked slowly in opposite directions to find the end of the perimeter. Tormund was successful when he found a hidden access point a click west.

 

“Got it,” Tormund sounded over the earpieces.

 

“Give me a couple of minutes. Once this goes down, you’ll have thirty to sixty seconds to get over before anyone notices I've breached it." They could hear Pyp give a few colorful curses before he started to count down. "3, 2, 1 …go!”

 

Jon and his team took off running north into the uncharted forest in front of them. “Stop!” Pyp yelled. They all skidded to a stop, freezing in place. “You’re in but this isn’t going to be as easy as the Halfhand re-conned a few weeks ago. I’m in their system but this is going to be tricky.”

 

“Just do what you can, Pyp.”

 

“Right, Jon.” The progress was gradual but purposeful as they calmly made their way towards Craster’s compound. Jon took the point while Tormund and Grenn took the sides. Edd climbed up a nearby tree to do an aerial scout.

 

“This fucker is impressive,” Edd spoke through the earpieces. “He has three points, they are walking guards along the top with three in the sentry points. There is a large yard. I see two guards patrolling the yard, shit, it’s fucking Rottweilers, Tormund.” Jon heard Tormund mutter a curse near him. The commanding man wasn’t known to be fearful of anything except when it came to that specific dog breed. “Far side of the yard, I see the main house and three smaller buildings. Craster should be in the main one.” Edd made his way down the tree and stood in front of Jon.  

 

“I expected more guards after the Halfhand’s intel, but we’re going to stick to the plan. We want to get to Craster before the cavalry arrives. Pyp, take down their automatic system, cut their heads off. Tormund set your stuff up on the west wall. Grenn and I will make it in and rendezvous with you at the main building. Edd, cover our backs.”

 

The men nodded, Edd darted off towards the east while Tormund jogged off to the west wall. Grenn and Jon inspected and loaded their magazines.

 

“In place.”

 

“On my signal, Tormund rain fire. 3… 2 … 1, now.”

 

The ground under them shuddered and pitched upward as Tormund’s bombs went off on the west wall. He must have set it closer than they planned because Jon heard the unmistakable whine of metal being twisted apart. The shouts of the guards running away from them led Jon and Grenn to the weak spot Halfhand had noticed and marked. Jon pulled himself under the metal fence, Grenn at his side. They sprinted across the empty yard towards the main building. A door unexpectedly shot open from one of the other towers. “Down!”

 

Jon threw himself down in time to see the man in front of them drop from Edd’s sniper bullet. The thuds of two more bodies dropping signaled that Tormund had taken the other two sentry guards out. _There are still three unaccounted for in here_. Jon covered Grenn’s back as he shoved a plastic explosive into the door.

 

“Now!” Jon and Grenn ducked out of the doorway as the explosive blew it off the hinges. “You boys better hurry up, I think the cavalry is coming.”

 

The unmistakable sound of helicopter blades could be heard descending on them. “Move now!”

 

The three of them, move quickly through the compound. “Craster’s office should be down a level on the left side,” Pyp directed them.

 

The ground shook again as another series of bombs went off. Jon glared at Tormund. “Back-up just in case,” he shrugged.

 

 Jon shook his head and lead them down the stairs, checking the corners before moving forward. Jon checked the hallway, he threw up three fingers. Grenn threw three smoke bombs towards the group of oblivious guards. The hiss of the smoke alerted the guards too late as they started coughing, soon three bodies hit the floor. Grenn and Tormund moved forward, quickly tying them up. Jon pushed pass them and kicked open the door with his gun directed at Craster’s head.

 

Craster sat behind his desk, dropping the stacks of bills from his right hand. He slowly raised them both, surrendering. “Well, I always knew the Night’s Watch would catch up to me one day.”

 

“Check him.” Grenn strode around the desk, seizing Craster from his chair. “Nothing on him.”

 

Tormund walked in and turned off the shredding machine. “I’m not hiding anything, just a simple northern businessman.”

 

“With a fucking fortified compound? Bullshit, where are they?”

 

“Who?”

 

Jon had had enough. He yanked Craster by the front of his shirt. “The women, your ‘daughters’ as you call them, you sick fuck.”

 

The clattering of boots interrupted Craster’s response. “We got it from here, boys.” Jamie Lannister strode into the office. Jon nodded at Grenn, who relinquished his hold on Craster and shoved him towards the southern soldiers behind Lieutenant Lannister.

 

As they led Craster away, Jamie fell into step next to Jon. “I thought I told your Commander that this raid was supposed to wait until the southern forces arrived?”

 

“Aye, but Commander Mormont wanted to get to Craster first, he didn’t want another fiasco after what happened at the Fist of the First Men.”

 

Lannister’s eyes narrowed. He gestured for his men to continue moving as they took Craster to the surface level. The once empty field was now swarming with the southern soldiers.

 

“You think they did the job the way they are walking around, fucking cu-” Jon shot the Northman a warning look as a southern soldier stopped in front of Lieutenant Lannister.

 

“Sir, I believe we found something.”

 

“Show me, Dickon.” They followed the young man to a corner of the fort opposite of where Tormund had set off the bombs.  There was a large yet inconspicuous door embedded in the solid granite with a finger pad near it in the surrounding rock.

 

“Pyp, you still there?” Jon tapped his earpiece.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Can you break it, it’s a biological lock.”

 

“Two minutes tops.” They stood in front of the door waiting for the red light to switch to green. As they did, they heard the metal grinding sounds of locks moving and popping of bolts, unlocking the door.  Jon had his M4 carabine ready. He pushed open the door, checking for clearance. “Clear!”.

 

Tormund and Grenn followed with Jaime on their heels. Tormund was the first to find a light switch to illuminate the cavernous room.

 

“Arms down,” Jon yelled. He glanced at the other men, a feeling of relief and nausea washed over him. There were at least ten lines, ten, maybe twenty deep of women of varying ages, race chained to the ground.

 

“He’s lined them up like cattle,” Jon walked to the closest line and dropped down in front of the first women. His gaze flickered to the loading dock to the behind them, he gently pulled at the chain, “The truck pulls up on the outside the compound and he loads them up. They never see the light of day.”

 

“I need medics in here now.” Jamie barked the orders out, sending his soldiers scurrying.

 

The women sat in different states of destitution, some barely dressed in more than a burlap sack, other still in the tattered faded colored shreds they were wearing when they abducted. Their heads hanging down, faces shallow and devoid of any emotion, except their eyes. Their eyes were darting back and forth in silent communication. The audible sound of soft whispering growing louder. 

 

 

Jon reached out to the young woman in front of him, she couldn’t have been older than Arya. She flinched. “I’m sorry, we’re going to get you out of here.”

 

She started shaking her head and speaking rapid-fire Valyrian at him, setting off a chain reaction as they all started vocalizing in languages he didn't recognize. Jon stepped back as the medics made their way into the room to start treating and releasing the women.”

 

Jon pushed past Jamie, with his team behind him. “It’s all yours, Lannister.”

 

* * *

 

“Mormont wants to see you, Jon.”

 

He looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway. “Congratulations on tonight, and no injuries either, that must be a first.”

 

“Aye, it is.” Jon pulled a clean shirt over his head and followed Sam out of the locker room. He found his way to the Commander’s office and knocked.

 

“Enter.”

 

Commander Jeor Mormont sat behind an impressive black desk with the insignia of the Night Watch engraved in it. He was the 997th commander of the Northern Army or the Night’s Watch as some still called them. The “old bear” had been one of the longest server commanders, he was gruff, demanding but fair. When Jon first joined, he had been intimidated by the man, but now, after years of service, he looked at his boss as more of a father figure than anything else.

 

“Sir, do you think we have enough evidence this time?”

 

Mormont lifted his gaze from the stacks of paperwork scattered across the desk. “Lannister’s team took over the collection of evidence, but we got him.” He gave a heavy sigh.  “He’s not escaping justice this time.”

 

“What about the crimes he committed here, in the North. You know how the southern system works.”

 

“I’m afraid all too well, but after speaking to Lieutenant Lannister,  he won’t be released on a technicality this time.”

 

Jon nodded, finally the months of work, long hours and sleepless nights all came to accumulative result; his team did it. They finally got the bastard.

 

“Good work tonight, Jon.” Mormont gravelly voice broke through his thoughts. “Everything went as planned, you should be pleased.”

 

“Thank you, sir. But I will feel better when I know he is locked up for good.”

 

“I just received the preliminary report from Lannister. Craster had a hundred and twenty women ready to ship out to his partners, according to the intel, he was due to move them tomorrow. Had we waited a day-“

 

“It would’ve all been for nothing.”

 

Mormont gave a grim smile. “It’s a hard job, Jon, the good news is these types of operations are far and few in-between. You and your team will be back to your typical reconnaissance missions soon enough.”

 

Jon nodded.

 

“Take a few days off as well,” Jon looked up, surprised as Mormont held his hand up. “You need a break son, I am aware of the amount of time this case has demanded of you and your team.” He returned his attention back to the files on his desk, effectively stopping Jon’s argument on the tip of his tongue. “Davos has agreed to cover if anything comes up. Take the night off, you’ve earned it.”

 

Jon thanked his commanding officer and quietly left Mormont’s office. He made his way to the small open office that he shared with Grenn, Tormund, and Edd. He was greeted with the three men, leaning against the adjacent wall waiting for him.

 

“Mormont gave you the next few days off as well?” Grenn asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Great! I don’t know about you sorry lot but I am going to the Grey Lady and have a few pints, any of you want to join?” Edd asked.

 

“Do you think the big blond woman will be there tonight?”

 

“I don’t know Tormund, but the way she looks at you, I think she wants to gut you, not kiss you.”

 

“You southern lads just don’t know what courting is to us true Northmen,” Tormund laughed.

 

“Jon, are you coming? I’m sure Ygritte will be there.”

 

Jon sighed, he wasn’t sure if the women he had a rocky on-off relationship with for last three years was the right person to spend a night of celebratory drinks with, but it was either that, or go home early to Ghost, and even his faithful dog at times had grown tired of him. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

 

Tormund gave a war-like whoop and slapped Jon on the back. “Let’s grab Pyp and Sam and make it a night. I feel like I can drink my weight in ale tonight.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Jon?”

 

Jon looked up from his post. He was watching the training session below in the gym, taking mental notes of the weakness of the new recruits.

 

“Do you have a minute?”

 

Jon nodded. “Grenn, I’ll be back.” 

 

Jon followed Sam into the interior of the Citadel, headed towards Pyp's workstation.

 

“Hey,” Pyp greeted them from behind his monitor. “Just the man I need to see.”

 

Jon entered the room while Sam closed the door behind them. “You have something to show me?”

 

“Yes,  I was able to download the internal computer systems from Craster’s, most of it was just data evidence for the case, shipping information, pick-up points, emails, even invoices, but then I dug a little deeper and he had some heavily encrypted files.”

 

“This is what we expected for a man that dealt with human trafficking, did you tell Mormont?”

 

“We did and handed over what we had, but there’s more.”

 

Pyp started typing on his computer and turned the monitor towards them. “I don’t know code Pyp, what am I looking at?”

 

“Sorry, this code keeps reappearing, in random spots and files. I couldn’t break it at first, I thought it could be a garbage file, but it’s not.” He started typing away and a separate file appeared. “It’s a hidden file, encrypted into data coding. Nothing unusual but no one does this anymore, hell, I’m not sure if anyone besides the best hackers did do this, to be honest.”

 

“What’s in the files?”

 

Pyp moved the mouse around and pulled up the screen. The schematics of Craster’s keep displayed on both of his monitors. He used his mouse to manipulate them. Years of intelligence burned into Jon’s memory,  he instantly recognized the basement level. Pyp mouse hovered over the basement level. “Notice something?”

 

Jon leaned forward, “A fucking sub-basement?”

 

“Not just one, count them… three sub-basements.”

 

Jon pulled back from the computer. They had searched the entirety of Craster's keep and there was nothing that indicated there were a secret sub-basements, let alone how to access it. “Where is the access point?”

 

“That’s the problem, according to the schematics it’s not inside the keep. It could be outside it, but we won’t know until we physically go there and look.”

 

“I’ll let Commander Mormont know, we need to investigate before the south offices get wind, who else knows?”

 

“You’re looking at them.”

 

“There’s one other thing, Jon,” Sam interrupted. “Go ahead, Pyp.”

 

Pyp starting typing away and pulled up a video file. He turns his computer speakers on and started the video.

 

The screen was dark for a moment until an older man with striking silver hair came into view.

 

His soft but raspy voice echoed towards them.“I’ve decided that video diaries are more imperative than the traditional written journals to document my current research-”

 

“What is this?”

 

“Just watch.”

 

“-Right, well. I have a theory that there is a way to treat certain diseases with gene splicing, actually taking the person with the disease, correcting their cells and giving it back to them.” He smiled at the camera and started a long-winded explanation into what he was talking about.

 

“Who is he?”

 

“Maester Aemon Targaryen.”

 

“How do you know this?”

 

“He’s a pioneer in infectious disease research, we wouldn’t have a successful treatment for greyscale without him.”

 

Jon looked for a time date on the video but saw none. “How old is this?”

 

“Not sure, I checked the time date encoded in the video, but it’s been corrupted. Based on the grainy imagery, I’m guessing ten-fifteen years?”

 

Jon watched the older gentlemen discuss his project, holding up diagrams. He looked older, his face creased with age, yet his violet eyes remained bright with curiosity. “Do we know his current status or location?”

 

“No,” Sam answered. “The last document I recovered was about a trip to Asshai, almost ten years ago, he’s been off the grid ever since.”

 

“Hold it, pause the video,” Jon leaned forward. “Can you zoom in, Pyp, bottom right corner?”

 

“Let’s see,” Pyp manipulated the video and zoomed in. “What did you see?”

 

“Go back a few frames, I thought I saw… there,” Jon jabbed the screen. “Who is that?”

 

The men stared at the brief image of a small child that darted into the screen. Their face obscured with the same silvery blond hair. They were wearing blue pants with a white top.

 

“I’m not sure,” Pyp muttered.

 

“Did Aemon Targaryen have any family?”

 

“I’m not sure, there are no public records of a family, that I am aware of, but I can search our records,” Sam answered.

 

Jon tipped his head to the side, studying the images. “I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl, or even age range.” He squinted. “ Were there any among the ones that Craster was keeping in the outdoor paddocks, that had hair like that?” he watched as the child, emerge in the background, still hidden, sitting down and beginning to play on the floor.

 

“No.”

 

Jon frowned. “Why in the hell would Craster have this in his possession?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I’m not sure, but this video is almost an hour long. It’s just a video diary log and he’s discussing a research hypothesis. I remember while studying in Oldtown how the Maesters talked about Maester Aemon. They always seemed indifferent. I mean they would applaud his discoveries and accomplishments and everything but if you started asking too many questions they’d change the subject. I remember one Maester describing him as a renegade with enemies at Oldtown.”

 

Jon nodded, taking in Sam’s insightful intel. “Is this the only one?”

 

“So far, there could be more. I have less than 50% of this stuff unencrypted. It might take me a while to sort through it,” Pyp answered.

 

“Work on breaking that encryption, just let me know if you find anything else. I’m going to talk to Commander Mormont, see if we can find out what exactly is in those sub-basements.”

 

Jon stopped before he reached the door, turning to them. “Pyp, any additional video diaries you find, give them to Sam. Sam, I will need you to review them and let me know what you find.”

 

“Not a problem, Jon," Sam stood and walked over to his computer, earbuds in as he started the first video. Pyp turned and set back to his task. 

 

Jon left them behind, heading straight towards Mormont’s office. As he strode along the dark sterile corridor he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that was settling in his gut. Questions started rising in his thoughts of hidden sub-basements, why and how Craster had obtained the video diary and what did a missing Maester have to do with a northern human trafficker?

 

Jon turned the corner, finding himself outside Mormont’s office. After years with the Night’s Watch, he knew that they were just scratching the surface and as much as he desired to return to the normalcy of intel operations. He shook the thoughts from his head, knocking on the door.

 

“Enter,”

 

Jon pushed opened the door to see Mormont looking over the schematics for an upcoming mission. Jon knew then that his fate laid elsewhere.

 

“Sir, we have new information on the Craster case.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the investigation, see some familiar faces and meet the Starks.

 

 

In general, Jon hated traveling south, specifically to Kings Landing. It was a dense, overcrowded labyrinth of a city that was built upon the ruins of Aegonfort, sprawling outward and inundating the once small surrounding towns and neighborhoods.  The air had a putrid tang to it that even the brackish sea air of Blackwater bay couldn’t diffuse. The cacophony of blaring car horns, jarring construction, and general discord made Jon long for the tranquil northern nights. The people in Kings Landing while diverse and depending on neighborhood were either civil working individuals or likely to bite your face off than greet you. Jon looked upon the venerated crimson towers as he adjusted his tie, before jogging up the steps of the Red Keep. Mormont had told him there was no need for him to travel for the pre-trial sentencing, but Jon had an undeniable need to see that bastard Craster locked up in chains.

 

“I never knew you to travel this far south, Snow?”

 

Jon turned. “Lieutenant Lannister.” He greeted.

 

Jamie Lannister stepped forward, giving his trademark dazzling smile. “Lieutenant Commander Snow.”

 

Jon grimaced at the use of his formal title.

 

“I take it you wanted to ensure, he stayed locked up this time?” Jaime's cat-eyed gaze wandered over him, adjusting the cuffs on his Kingsguard uniform. "Not dressed in your uniform either I see?"

 

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Jon thought of the traditional black military uniform, packed away at his house.

 

“No southern has seen an officer of the north in years, no need to break tradition now.” Jon shoved his hands into his black business suit pockets. “Shall we?”

 

Both men entered through the neo classic revolving doors, emptying into the busy atrium of the Red Keep, Westeros Federal Courthouse. Jon grey gaze scanned the area for a familiar face when it landed on the smiling Naathi. 

 

“Missandei,” he made his way over towards her, greeting the old acquaintance. Jon had first met Missandei when they started the human trafficking investigation. They had grown familiar with each after working together on the Essoi links. The multilingual Naathi had been a godsend to get things in order for the sting, providing critical information and proved most beneficial.

 

“Lieutenant Commander, Snow” she shook his hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day that Craster would finally face Federal charges.”

 

"Oh, I knew it was going to happened." Tyrion Lannister spoke from behind them. "With Lieutenant Commander Jon Snow and his Night Watch team on the case, it was only a matter of time before they caught him. I’m just glad it ends today.”

 

“Who is the judge for the arrangement?”

 

"The Honorable Olenna Tyrell, she's fair, resolute and my personal favorite unswayable to outside influences. Not too many are like that these days.” Tyrion answered.

 

“Who is his lawyer? A public defender?” Jamie asked.

 

"I wish, but interesting enough its Varor Maegaan, a  lawyer with a ruthless reputation from Braavos.”

 

“The same guy that represented Kraznys and got him off with ten years when he should’ve been locked up for fifty?” Jaime exclaimed.

 

“Unfortunately, but that was in Astapor, the judges in the Free Cities are-“ Tyrion paused for a moment, seeming to mull over his thoughts.  “More controversial? Questionable at times,  however the evidence, in this case, is straightforward and I can't see Judge Tyrell letting him off on implausible claims by a dubious lawyer from Braavos like the last judge.”

 

 _Shite._ Jon looked over to Missandei, her grimace confirmed the worst. Even after Tyrion’s confident assurance in Judge Tyrell, he couldn’t shake the lingering doubts. If this Maegaan was able to get a reduced sentence for Kraznys after the atrocities he committed. There was a possibility he could do the same for Craster and obtain a reduced sentence or worst get the entire case dismissed. If that were to happen then the last three years were for nothing, the victims and their families would still suffer and see no justice.

 

The chiming alarm of Tyrion’s watch alerted them that it was time and they needed to head towards the courtroom. The group followed Tyrion’s lead into courtroom number one.

 

Once inside, Tyrion and Missandei made their way towards the prosecution side while Jon and Jaime took seats towards the back. The side door opened as a bailiff brought in Craster. He entered the courtroom in a tan jumpsuit with his hands and feet in shackles. He glanced over and made eye contact with Jon and sneered. 

 

“All rise, the honorable Judge Tyrell is presiding.”

 

An older woman with sharp eyes and stern expression entered the courtroom and settled behind the bench. She rapped her gavel three times ushering a silence into the room.

 

“Please be seated, court is now in session.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jon pushed through the double doors of the courtroom and stormed towards the nearest exit. "I don't fucking believe it." He muttered, nearly avoiding a collision with a patron in the atrium. He quickly made his way through the security checkpoint to the exit. 

 

The sweet humid air met him as he took a deep inhale, attempting to calm himself.

 

“Jon?”

 

“Not now, Missandei.” His eyes pinched shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The last two hours replaying in his head. It had been a complete clusterfuck the moment court was called into session. Maegaan had started off by demanding for a mistrial due to the handling of the investigation by the Night Watch and the Kingsguard. He began listing off inconsistencies with the investigation, how evidence was mishandled and processed inappropriately and that the evidence they had gathered was circumstantial at best and proved nothing and should be thrown out. The bastard even had the audacity to claim that Craster was the victim of an extortion scheme between the Essoi contacts and the fucking Night Watch. It took the strength of all seven gods to restraint himself from going over there and throttling the smug bastard himself.

 

Thankfully Judge Tyrell wasn’t easily manipulated by Maegaan claims but did grant additional time for the defense to get the necessary documents to prove their claims and would postpone the trial for one month. Craster was to be kept at the Dragon Pit penitentiary until the trial on no bond.

 

Jon heard the door banging open behind him, followed by a set of quickly descending steps. “What the hell Tyrion? What the hell was that?”

 

“I expected this, I had an idea Maegaan would pull this shit.”

 

“But slandering the Kingsguard and the Night Watch? Questioning our tactics?” Jaime started to pace. “Just those claims alone could ruin our reputations.”

 

“Does it have any ground?”

 

"No," Jon murmured. "Of course not, none of this claims do. We did everything per protocol."

 

“Did you? Because after what I heard in there, I can’t help but wonder if you did? The Northern Army and the Night Watch have a history of going rogue.”

 

Jon rounded on the blond man standing in front of him. “Don’t-question-my-team,” he enunciated by jabbing his finger into Jaime’s chest.

 

“Gentlemen,” Missandei stepped forward, separating the exchange before it further escalated.

 

"That was tense and I know personal feelings are involved due to the nature of the investigation, but Tyrion expected this and if I'm honest I'm not surprised at all. Maegaan has ties to the Iron Bank and many other dubious businesses that have financial ties to the trafficking trade. He’s the man you go to get things cleaned up.”

 

“But we have the evidence,” Tyrion moved towards the group, studying his brother and Jon. “Jon, if there is any additional evidence that can support the circumstantial evidence your team has and if so we could really use it.”

 

“The photographs of the  women chained up isn’t enough?” Jaime barked.

 

Tyrion turned towards his brother. "I understand but this is a different circumstance. Tyrell is only allowing this so Maegaan doesn’t file a motion for her to be removed. If that happens we’re fucked so in order to prevent that I need everything you have, even the smallest insignificant evidence is important.” Tyrion stressed, glaring at them both.  

 

“Jamie, Jon, please go through everything you have and triple check everything with your men. We will need everything we have to get Craster.”

 

Jamie nodded at his brother, pulling out his phone. He stepped away from them to make a call.

 

Jon stepped back, his arm crossed, his thoughts racing about the sub-basements, debating if he should reveal what they were working on. "Aye, we may have something." 

 

“Do you?” Tyrion’s mismatched gaze grew bright.

 

“We found something in the schematics, it could be nothing or something but we’re currently working on it.”

 

Before Tyrion to further question Jon. Jamie stepped back, finished with his call. “I can send soldiers to assist.” He offered.

 

Jon shook his head. “No, my team can handle it.”

 

Jamie nodded.

 

“Good, now I don’t know about you but I could use a drink before heading back to the office to start going through the paperwork and boxes of evidence to support our case, any takers?”

 

“I need to check in with my team but I will see you later,” Jaime patted Tyrion on the shoulder, bidding his goodbye to the group as he jogged down the stairs of the Red Keep.

 

“I’ll join you,” Missandei chimed in. “I will need to notify the victims and the families of today's events and see if any are willing to testify against Craster. Eyewitness accounts from the victims will help. It doesn't usually happen in these cases but the thought of him being released might motivate some to come forward. " 

 

Tyrion gave a small sad smile. “That could help, Jon?”

 

Jon stare out into the sea of cars and pedestrians carrying on with their daily activities, completely unaware of what was going on. _Ignorance is bliss_.  "I'm heading back to Castle Black in a few hours, after what happen today, I need to update my team.”

 

“Right, well maybe next time. Keep me updated on that potential evidence.” Tyrion shook his hand.

 

Missandei stepped forward, giving him a polite hug. “I’ll check in with you later, give your family my best.”

 

Jon smiled and nodded, turning to leave the two behind as he made his way to the nearest train station.

 

* * *

 

“Tired?”

 

Jon opened his eyes to see an almost identical granite gaze studying him.

 

“Yes,” he muttered.

 

“Really?” Arya plopped herself down next to him on the couch. “Cause you looked more stressed than anything else.”

 

Jon gave his cousin a side-eye, shaking his head, brushing her inquiry aside.

 

“Arya leave him alone,” Sansa started as she whirled around, setting Robb’s dining room table for dinner. “He clearly doesn’t want to or can’t talk about it.”

 

Arya huffed. “Fine, still look like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Jon murmured as he playfully swatted Arya away.

 

Arya dodged his hits. “You’re getting slow old man,” she mocked, jumping up from the couch. “Is Bran coming tonight?”

 

“He said he would but you know how tired he can get after physical therapy," Robb yelled from the kitchen.

 

“Wait, you’re cooking?” Jon yelled, pulling his attention off the football match towards the kitchen.

 

“Ha! not likely,” Sansa laughed. “Talisa prepared a meal, he’s just putting it together and heating it up.”

 

“Thank the gods for Talisa,” Arya chimed in. “I don’t think I could stomach another round of your stuffed trout dish.”

 

"Hey, I have you know that’s Dad’s trout dish you’re bad mouthing!"

 

“I know but it’s not like Dads, his was the best.” Arya murmured under her breath. The spitfire Stark becoming quiet for a moment.

 

“What are we having?” Jon asked, attempting to keep the mood upbeat.

 

“A traditional Volantis dish-”

 

“Oh! Is it the one with the mussels, shrimp, chicken with sauce and the yellow rice?” Arya practically shouted from her position, perched on the back of the couch. 

 

 “Correct," Robb bellowed from the kitchen.

 

“Again, let us give thanks to the seven gods,” Arya grinned, dramatically fainting, rolling over the top of the couch landing next to Jon.

 

 “Have I told you how happy I am that you married her Robb?” Arya snatched the TV remote from Jon. “Your other girlfriend couldn’t cook for shit.”

 

Robb’s head poked out of the kitchen. “Thanks, I guess?”

 

“Arya!” Sansa shrieked from the adjoining room. “I thought you liked Jeyne, don’t you still talk to her?”

 

“Yes, occasionally, doesn’t mean her cooking wasn’t shit,” she whispered and started giggling next to Jon.

 

Jon exhaled, he needed this break. He didn’t have as much free time in the previous months to visit with his cousins, which they constantly reminded him in their group chat. Even with all the shit going on with the Craster investigation, being around them lightened his mood. He noticed his phone screen light up. He put his passcode in and saw a message from Sam. Arya leaned over his shoulder.

 

“Work?”

 

Jon briefly scanned the message and closed his phone, “Yep.”

 

Arya leaned back, giving him a quizzical look. “Why can’t you ever talk to us Jon about work?”

 

“You’re one to talk, Arya. All the mystery behind your job in Braavos.” Bran answered as he entered the room using his walker. “You start this argument but the answer will be the same. He can’t tell us anything because he works for the Night Watch.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes after Bran pointed out the obvious. Jon smirked and braced himself to push off the couch but sat back down after Bran waved him away.  “How is physical therapy going?" He asked.

 

Bran stiffly shuffled towards a love seat and dropped himself down. "Good, getting use to the new braces." He tapped his knuckle against the Valyrian steel braces that encircled his legs. 

 

“Where’s your wheelchair?” Arya asked.

 

“Hodor dropped it off, it’s in the garage.”

 

“How is Hodor?” Sansa asked as she briefly stopped with glasses in hand, giving Bran a hug before proceeding to the dining room.

 

“Good, I think he had a hot date tonight, usually he hovers over me after PT because I’m exhausted, but tonight he practically sat me on Robb’s porch and tore off down the road.” Bran laughed.

 

“Ahem, Starks?”

 

They all turned to Robb and Sansa standing at the dining room table with a spread of Volanti dishes. “Let’s eat.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner with the Starks was and still, something one had to experience to fully appreciate. The memory of dinners with the Starks, filter through Jon’s thoughts. The tradition of weekly family dinners was a practice Stark custom, that Jon looked forward to when he and his mother traveled to Winterfell for the winter and summer holidays. When he moved to Winterfell after his mother's death, he was use to a quiet lifestyle with just him and his mother with the occasional visit from her friend Ashara, only seeing his cousins two or three times a year. The change was abrupt and left Jon feeling isolated and alone. There was a time when he didn’t want to be around his cousins and sought solace to mourn and remember his former life.

 

It took time and patience from Ned and Catelyn, but eventually, he could be around his family without the painful reminder of his mother haunting him. Slowly Jon started to join the family dinners and he got used to Robb's ill-timed and often crude jokes; Sansa girlish squeals while arguing with Arya; Arya’s inquisitive but blunt questioning; Bran’s teasing and boasting and Rickon’s constant seek for attention. The former was nothing in comparison to rambunctious dinner with his cousins and he was fine with it.

 

The sudden passing Ned shook the resolute Starks to their core. Catelyn tried to keep the ongoing weekly dinners but she missed her husband too much and it caused more pain than joy keeping the tradition he loved. So the weekly dinners turned into monthly and then only on holidays or special occasions to not occurring at all over the next few years. It was rare to get them all in one place these days. They were all spread out over the country with lives and busy schedules, for a while Jon thought the Stark tradition would be a memory confined to the past. However once married, Robb felt compelled and took over the duty of reinstating the custom.

 

After doing two tours in the Free Cities. Robb returned back to Winterfell and had taken over his father’s cybersecurity and technology firm. He was keeping himself busy after partnering with a cousin from the Vale and was currently giving the technology firms in Kings Landing something to worry about.

 

Sansa had decided to study fashion at Highgarden Fashion Institute. She had been part of the team that set up The Reach Fashion Week for the last three years and based on the success and reviews of this season’s show, she anticipated a future promotion to head next year’s team. 

 

The always adventurer Arya had decided, much to her mother’s dismay to follow in Robb and Jon’s footsteps and enlist in the northern army. After a tour in the Disputed Lands and the Free Cities, she decided that her calling wasn’t serving the Northern Military but across the narrow sea in Braavos. Arya like Jon couldn’t provide specific details on her work in Braavos but assured them that it was lucrative and legal.

 

Bran took his athletic gift and ran with it. He had become a bit of a viral internet sensation with his rock climbing videos and started winning local climbing competitions. Two years ago, he was scheduled to compete in the annual Jhogwin rock climbing competition along the Bone Mountains in Essos.  Sadly, he never got the opportunity to compete in that competition. He suffered a spine injury after a falling accident at the Winged Knight competition in the Vale. Bran was now restricted to a wheelchair with limited use and sensation in his legs, but after some investigational stem cell treatments in Oldtown, he was slowly regaining some functionality of his legs and could now walk short distances with the use of his walker and braces.  He mostly stayed with Robb since the commute to his school and physical therapy in Cerwyn were closer. Jon hardly saw Rickon, he was still in his final year of high school in Winterfell and after Ned’s untimely death Catelyn kept Rickon close, especially after he decided to take after Bran with his perchance of extreme sports.

 

"That kid is going to be the death of me," Robb muttered. "I thought you three were bad, especially you Arya-"

 

Arya scoffed, shoving another spoonful of paella in her mouth.

 

“But what was it, last week?”

 

Bran nodded. “He jumped off Breakstone Bridge,”

 

Jon choked on his beer. “Seriously?”

 

Robb nodded. “I thought mum was going to kill him. Even with Theon's incessant goading, we knew better than to jump off Breakstone Bridge. We only did that one bridge jump when Uncle Benjen took us to Moat Caitlin.”

 

The memory of three skinny pale teenagers daring one another to jump off an old condemned bridge before a yodeling Benjen beat them to it, flying past them, landing with a splash in the black water below. 

 

“No one is that stupid, not even Rickon. Breakstone Bridge is what one hundred meters? two hundred meters high?” Arya asked.

 

“One hundred and seventy-five meters, It was an experiment, he said," Bran answered.

 

“What?” They all but shouted out.

 

“Something he saw on TV about throwing a rock down to break the water surface so he wouldn’t get hurt.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Leave it to Rickon, Even I know that doesn’t work.”

 

“He got a bruised flank, broken arm and a fractured collarbone to prove it too,” Robb answered.

 

"He could've broken his neck or worse," Jon muttered.

 

"Oh, Jon don't act like you didn't do crazy stuff too at fifteen.” Arya goaded.

 

Jon’s thoughts drifted back to a time after his mother had just died. His father was never involved and he was rebelling against everything and anything to deal with the pain of his mother’s death. Thinking about the risks he took back then, it was no wonder he enlisted in the Northern Army to give him some focus.

 

“I’m not, it’s just we had more common sense than Rickon.” He laughed. “We did dumb dangerous stuff but weren’t constantly tempting death.”

 

The conversation jumped around several times and got loud once the beer and dark liquor started flowing freely between the cousins.

 

They barely heard Talisa enter the house while Arya was telling an animated tale of a weekend adventure she had while visiting Sansa in Highgarden.

 

She stood on the chair, her arms gesturing outward, the volume of her voice increasing “And then, these two guys come up to us, thinking we’re the ones-“

 

“Guys! Guys!”

 

Robb waved his hands around, quieting them down and stopping Arya’s story.

 

“I can hear you outside,” Talisa laughed.

 

Robb quickly stood up, jogging over to greet Talisa with a kiss on the temple. “Sorry, love. We got a little carried away,”

 

“I was at our wedding remember? I know how you Starks can get.” She gestured at the table, littered with empty beer bottles.

 

A chorus of murmured apologies answered her. “No need to stop on my account.” She pulled off her coat, hanging it on the back of a chair. “I’m curious as to how this ends and why they thought you two stole their car?”

 

Arya took a quick swig of beer and grinned. “Right, where was I, so they big burly one comes at me and I think I can take him but Sansa nervous so-“

 

* * *

 

It was close to midnight when everything finally settled down at Robbs house. Per Talisa’s orders; all of them spread out in respective corners of the house, sleeping it off, too drunk to drive home for the night.

 

Jon found himself sitting on Robbs deck overlooking a field on a starry night, watching Grey Wind and Summer chase each other.  

 

He heard the chair creak next to him. “That was a good dinner,” he nodded towards the two dire wolves rolling in the grass. “Need to bring Ghost next time you come down..”

 

"Aye," he responded, taking a sip of his bourbon.

 

Robb took a sip of his, both settling into an amicable silence. “So how are you Jon, really?”

 

Jon took a deep breath, “I’ve been better but overall I can’t complain.”

 

He looked over to see Robb cobalt gaze studying him. “Have you talk to your therapist recently?”

 

“No, I’ve been busy with an investigation,” Jon shrugged.

 

“Jon-“

 

“I know,” he huffed. “I’m still using all the techniques they taught me. I haven’t had a relapse in six months.”

 

Robb nodded. “How are things with Ygritte?”

 

Jon took another long sip, the amber liquid burning down his throat. “I wouldn’t know, seems she prefers the chaotic Jon over clearheaded Jon.”

 

Robb scoffed, shaking his head. “Hate to say this but I saw that coming. She had her own shit she was dealing with too right?”

 

“Yeah, misery loves company.” Jon lifted his rock glass in a mock salute.

 

“Is this going to affect your recovery?” Robb asked as he gestured to the bourbon in his hand.

 

“No, alcohol was never the problem, I only used it to help me sleep at night.”

 

Robb gave him a skeptical look, “To help dull the memories and nightmares right?”

 

Jon glared at his cousin, setting the glass down, sharply causing liquid to splash onto the wooden deck.  

 

Robb held his hands up, in defense. “I’m sorry Jon, I just remember how you were after that last tour and-“ he paused. “ I don’t want to see you that way again, I love you like a brother you know that right? Life dealt you a shit hand but doesn’t mean you can’t be happy? Right?”

 

Jon shook his head, giving him a curious look. “I appreciate the gesture, but I'm fine Robb, I have a good support system in place." Jon picked up his drink, taking another lingering sip, studying his cousin's profile. "Besides, either marrying Talisa is causing you to have some serious emotional growth or you’re drunk.”

 

Robb laughed, taking another sip. “Probably both,”

 

Both men laughed. “It seems to be quiet in the northern territories, I haven’t heard anything lately on the news about the insurgents.”

 

“Aye, it has been quiet, almost too quiet." Jon instinctively rubs his chest, massaging the phantom pain and memories away.

 

Robb nodded “So what is this investigation that you’re working on about or can you not tell me?”

 

Jon sighed. When he first accepted his position at the Night Watch, he felt conflicted about not being able to disclose his assignments to his family, but he was never able to disclose what he did when he was a ranger either. Eventually, he came to terms with it and they all did too, except Arya. 

 

“You’ll see it in tomorrow’s paper I’m sure. Craster’s lawyer is calling for a mistrial.”

 

“Shite!” Robb accidentally dropped his glass, shattering it. “Do they not know or care to remember what happened to those girls on Bear Island because of that bastard. He got off then on a technicality.”

 

“I’m sure they do,”

 

“Jon-“

 

“I know Robb, I’m heading back to Castle Black tomorrow, my team and Lannister’s team are on it.”

 

“Good,” he muttered. “Let me know if you need anything, I mean anything. I can gladly pull some guys off projects to help. Tony wouldn’t mind either.”

 

“You’re a civilian now,” Jon replied. “My team can handle it, I got Pyp working on a few things.”

 

“Okay,” Robb settled back in his seat. “Pyp is the best grey hat hacker the north has to offer. Just wish I could’ve kept him for myself.” 

 

Jon laughed. “He still threatens occasionally about applying for a position, especially when the weather gets treacherous.”

 

The men shared a laugh, Jon turned to see the sliding glass door opening, Talisa stepping outside onto the deck, stepping around the remnants of Robb’s glass.“I’m surprised to see you two are still awake.”

 

“The others are still featherweights, their Stark drinking genes having kicked in yet," Robb explained. Talisa rolled her eyes.

 

“How was your shift?”

 

“Busy,” she sighed and settled next to Robb. She swirled the glass of wine she was holding.

 

“There’s an outbreak of red spots, so triage was busy, in addition to the three codes, and the two traumas,” she looked up and frowned, gesturing towards the full moon. “That explains everything right there.”

 

“Are you looking forward to leaving the emergency room?” Jon asked. He had heard from Robb that Talisa was burned out, after several years of being an emergency room nurse, the desire to take care of patients was there but physically she didn’t have it in her anymore.

 

“I am but I’m going to miss the excitement. You know running around, the adrenaline high…but research will be different.”

 

“Research?”

 

“Mhmm,” she answered taking a sip. “They are opening a new research unit, it’s going to be an extension of the research hospital in Oldtown. We’ll treat the local patients here instead of them traveling to Oldtown. Bran won’t have to go to Oldtown for his follow-ups anymore.”

 

 _Research?_ Jon fumbled with his phone and pulled up the message that Sam sent earlier. He scanned the messaged. _Shite how could I have missed the connection._

 

“Talisa, have you heard of Targaryen Biomedical Research?”

 

She looked off, seeming to ponder of a moment. “That name is familiar, Oh wait!” she snapped her fingers. “Yes, last year I was at a conference and one of their researchers was there. Dr. Targaryen. She’s brilliant.”

 

Talisa pulled out her phone. Showing Jon a picture of her standing next to a silver-haired woman. "Why?" 

 

Jon’s stared at the photo before darting his eyes away. “Nothing,” he shoved the phone back into his pocket. The information settling in his thoughts, “Just looks like I will be making a trip to Dragonstone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part one of a long chapter, part two is coming soon. This and the next chapter are large information drops.
> 
> Just an FYI The Kingsguard and The Night Watch are part of the Northern and Southern Armies but are considered units in them, similar to how the 101st Airborne is a unit in the Army branch. They interact but they have specific responsibilities that differ from other units in the military. Hope that doesn't cause any confusion. I have family that has served so that's where this is coming from. 
> 
> Also, this is not a Missandei/Jon fic in no way, they are friends, we'll see more of their friendship in later chapters. But they are not and have never been a couple or had anything going on.
> 
> Did anyone catch my subtle marvel comics hint? The comic book geek in me couldn’t help it lol 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it part two is on the way


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon travels to Dragonstone and gets more intel

 

 

Jon stood inside the pristine lobby of Targaryen biomedical research facility. He was surprised he was able to get an appointment with the head of the company as quickly as he did. He half expected they would delay him two maybe three weeks at the least, but when Mr. Targaryen assistant, responded to his inquiry saying he could meet in two days’ time. To say the least, it surprised him.

 

Jon was only at Castle Black for a full day before he had to leave the following day. To make the most of his limited time there, he spent the majority of his morning in a meeting with Commander Mormont and Davos updating them on the situation before he updated his team that afternoon. When he informed his men of Maegaan’s claims, Tormund’s response of punching a hole in the wall, epitomize their shared sentiment.  He learned that Tormund, Grenn, and Edd had made little headway on finding the location of the entrance to the sub-basement. Pyp had developed a logarithm to narrowed down the possible location within a three-mile radius of Craster’s keep. They had unsuccessfully investigated three potential locations but were more motivated than before to find the elusive entrance.

 

Jon instructed Grenn with Tormund and Edd’s help to continuing reviewing documents but also review all the surveillance they obtained over the years on Craster and to let him know if they found anything that Tyrion could use. Jon pulled Sam and Pyp to the side afterwards and showed them the picture Talisa sent him to compare to the few photos Pyp was able to locate.  The few photos Pyp could find were of decent quality but neither captures an unobstructed view of Dr. Targaryen. One was a grainy photo of her graduating class from Meereen Medical School, the other a photo taken several years ago at a research conference in Dorne. Pyp used age progression software and there were distinct similarities between the child on the video and the photos he discovered such as eye and hair color, but not enough for Pyp to confirm it was the same person.  Jon understood and left Pyp and Sam to continue their work. Towards the end of the day, Commander Mormont summoned Jon to his office to review and implement his agenda in his absence. After Jon assured him that everything was in order with Davos covering, he was dismissed with an order to contact him immediately after the meeting in Dragonstone.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Snow?”

 

Jon looked up from his phone, tucking it back into this pants pocket as he stood up. “Yes, and Agent Snow is fine.”

 

A petite brunette with violet eyes smiled at him as she walked towards him. “My apologies Agent Snow, Jaelana Rivers,” she shook his hand. “Mr. Targaryen is ready for you.”

 

“Right,” Jon nodded and followed the young woman to the elevator, taking it to the executive offices on the top floor. He continued to follow, winding their way through the catacombs of cubicles heading towards two large black glass doors with a red three-headed dragon sigil engraved on them. Ms. Rivers opened the door into a grandiose empty conference room, gesturing him to come inside.

 

“Mr. Targaryen will be with you shortly.”

 

Jon took a seat at the impressive rosewood conference table. Spanning the length of the room in front of him were floor to ceiling windows, looking over Dragonstone Bay. He could see the waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance.

 

“Beautiful sight isn’t it?”

 

Jon turned toward the voice, standing. The man was taller than Jon with short cropped silver blond hair. He moved around the table, his indigo eyes studying Jon. “Rhaegar Targaryen,” he extended his hand.

 

“Jon Snow of the Night’s Watch”

 

Rhaegar indigo eyes widened in surprise. "The Night's Watch? It’s very rare we get visitors from the Northern Army, let alone the Night Watch.  What brings you down here to our research facility?”

 

Both men settled into their respective chairs, across from one another. Jon reached into his briefcase, pulling out a folder, getting straight to the matter at hand.

 

He coughed, clearing his throat. “We recently conducted a raid in the northern territories and arrested a suspected human trafficker- “

 

“Craster?” Rhaegar interrupted. “I heard about that on the news, that was you?”

 

Jon nodded.

 

“Good, I studied over in Essos and did volunteer work during college. It’s a disturbing system that doesn’t get enough media coverage over there. Our company has done some work in the past for victims’ rights. My mother was a proponent of reuniting families affected by human trafficking. She set up a foundation that helps with reuniting families, we have experience reuniting them and will gladly offer help in any way we can.”

 

“Thank you for the offer, but-”

 

“I know that’s not why you’re here. A man of the Night’s Watch wouldn’t travel this far south for something that could be accomplished with a simple phone call or an email exchange.”

 

Jon grimaced as he opened the folder, sliding a copy of the photos towards him.

 

Rhaegar picked up the photos, flipping through them and stopped. “Where did you find these?”

 

“I was hoping you could give some insight on that. My team collected these from a set of video diaries found in Craster’s possession. Do you have any idea of how and why he would have these?”

 

“No, do you have the actual videos? Or any more screenshots?"

 

Jon reached back into the leather portfolio removing a thumb drive, additional screenshots, including a few from the one video with an uncorrupted timestamp along with the several pages of transcripts Sam had emailed to him that morning.

 

Jon watched as Rhaegar flipped through the documents, holding the thumb drive in his left hand. His purple gazed narrowed on a page of the transcript as he abruptly stood up from the desk.

 

 “Um, excuse me, please,” he murmured as he left the office with the documents in hand.

 

 _He looked just as surprised to see those as we were_. Jon noticed, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Rhaegar returned a few minutes later.

 

“I hope you don’t mind but I dropped off the thumb drive to our archives department to look at.”

 

He sat down in the chair. “I haven’t seen Great Uncle Aemon’s lab in years.” He sighed, leaning back into the leather chair. “I was caught off guard seeing those images.”

 

Jon nodded, recognizing the response. “Where was your Great Uncle Aemon’s lab located?”

 

“It was on the eastern side of the Dragonstone. It was destroyed in a hurricane two years ago. We kept what could be salvaged. There's only a commemorative plaque there now.”

 

Jon inwardly sighed, unsure of the man’s reaction to the next part. “There is something else we found on the videos.”

 

Rhaegar gave an inquisitive look, leaning forward to retrieve the two enhanced photos of the white hair child Jon pushed across the table.

 

 “Do you know who this is?”

 

Rhaegar picked up the photos, inspecting them and chuckled. “That’s Dany, it’s definitely Dany. She was always playing in Aemon’s lab.” He handed the photo back to Jon. “Viserys wasn’t allowed there, mother always sheltered him due to his condition; leaving Dany alone to escape and wander around the island on her own.”

 

“Dany is your sister correct?”

 

“Yes,” Rhaegar broke from his thoughts with a smile. “Younger sister, Dr. Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

“When was the last time you saw your sister?”

 

Rhaegar exhaled and sat back. “A few months ago, she is on business travel around the Free Cities and received a request to consult on a patient in the Shadowlands. Why? Do you think she is somehow connected to all this?” Rhaegar leaned forward. “I mean she’s just a kid in these videos.”

 

“To be honest, I’m not sure but it’s my job to rule it out.”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “Is there anything else?”    

 

“Can you tell me what your sister does here at Targaryen Biomedical Research?”

 

“She is the acting chief of our infectious disease lab and principal investigator on many of the clinical trials we run here. Our main purpose is to continue the research with rare diseases that Aemon started.”

 

“Like Greyscale.”

 

“Yes, among others.”

 

Jon gestured towards the transcript on the table. “The transcript from the video diary, does it mean anything to you?”

 

“I recognize some of it, but my understanding of experimental medical treatments is limited. You see Aemon and my Father, Aerys started this company when the Citadel Maesters no longer agreed with how Aemon was conducting his research. In order to keep the business and research in the family, Dany followed in Aemon footsteps while I took after my father and learned the business side of the company.” A somber expression crossed over his face. “She would be better suited to explain the scientific theories Aemon is speaking about than me.”

 

“Is there any way I can get in contact with her?”

 

“I can provide you with her email address? She is pretty good about checking in. She already responded to ones I sent last night.”

 

There was a loud rap on the door before it opened, interrupting them. Jalena entered the room handing over a thin stack of papers and the thumb drive to Rhaegar.  He flipped through it. “Interesting," he muttered. "I will let you know if I need anything else, Mrs. Rivers"

 

Jalena nodded and exited the conference room.  

 

“The head of our archives department, Brenton Stone, took a look at what was on the thumb drive. He started off as an apprentice to Aemon and besides Dany, he knows those videos better than anyone else. We keep the originals here in the archives. He recognizes a few details and the timestamp you were able to recover and confirmed that these videos are from twenty years ago. However, the timeframe that video should belong too is not in our archives."

 

It was becoming clear that Craster had more than a feinting interest in these specific diaries. “Do you think they were misfiled or lost?” Jon asked.

 

“Aemon did frequently travel to the northern territories, but that wouldn’t explain why the videos are not in the archives.” Rhaegar contemplated.

 

“Is it possible he could’ve sent the diaries to an old colleague?” Jon reasoned.

 

"No, Aemon became increasingly paranoid about his research being stolen. He left strict instructions that all his possessions be kept here on Dragonstone and that his research be kept in the archives in hopes that in the near future with technological advancements his theories could prove useful and continue to advance medical practice.”

 

“Could they have been stolen?”

 

Rhaegar eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Possibly, there was a security breach about ten years ago when my father was still the head of the company, but I was told we recovered everything.”

 

 _Ten years ago?_ Jon wondered. Ten years ago, the northern territories were in the midst of an open rebellion against the rest of Westeros. Their infrastructures and government were still active and intact, there was a possibility but Jon knew it was a stretch.

 

Rhaegar rapped his knuckles against the rosewood table, breaking Jon’s thoughts. “I’ll have my IT specialist look into it.”

 

Jon watched as the color from Rhaegar face slowly drained away. “Shite,” he murmured.

 

“What?”

 

“I didn’t think anything of it but before Dany left, she had been recently reviewing some of Aemon’s old research. She says it invigorates her contemplation when seeing patients. It was in passing but before she left she mentioned she thinks one of his theories is now plausible, even testable. Do you think this all could be related and that my sister is in some type of danger?”

 

“Unfortunately, I can neither confirm or deny the possibility of this; however, my team is decoding the last of the videos as we speak, we have to eliminate all other possibilities before moving forward.”

 

“Right,” Rhaegar nodded, rubbing his hands together. Jon could read the growing apprehension in his features.  “Well, I'll look into in on my end. Dany keeps personal files on Aemon’s work. I can access it and if I come across anything, I can let you know.”

 

Jon stood up and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your time, I’ll be in touch.”

 

“Thanks, I will do the same.” 

 

Jon exited the conference room, leaving the businessman to his thoughts as he strode towards the elevators. He reached the atrium, unhindered and exited the building. Walking down the path towards his rental car, Jon pulled out his phone; dialing a familiar number. It rang several times before he got an answer.

 

“Jon! How did it go at Targaryen Biomedical?”

 

“He confirmed it, Sam, it’s Dr. Daenerys Targaryen in the videos.  Has she shown up again on any of the other diaries?” Jon could hear Sam yelling at Pyp in the background. The response was muffled for a second before it cleared up.

 

“Yes, per Pyp ‘The little imp has popped up several times and is older’ wait- what’s that Pyp? He thinks the videos span a five-year timeframe and she’s talking in one of the videos.”

 

Jon stopped walking. "Sam put Pyp on please.”

 

“Yeah, boss?” Pyp replied.   

 

Jon grimaced, “She’s speaking in one of the videos?”

 

“Yep, she’s older and Aemon talks to her about an experiment even calls her ‘my little dragon,’ He chuckled.  “I de-coded about 75% of the last two videos, once I’m done I give them to Sam to start transcribing them, just as you ordered.”

 

“Fantastic,” Jon entered the car, starting the engine. “I’m catching a flight out this afternoon, I’ll check in when I get there, just leave what you have so far on my desk.”

 

“Right, will do. Did you need to talk to Sam again?”

 

“No, I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning.”

 

Pyp agreed as Jon hung up the phone. He sent Rhaegar an email asking for any current pictures of Daenerys Targaryen, and her itinerary of her current travel. It was possible that he was overreacting but whoever Craster had those videos for had both visual and audio evidence of Dr. Targaryen. He knew it wasn't a lot but to the right person, it was enough to connect the two and identify her. _Shite not again_. Jon backed the car out and shifted it into gear as he raced down Meraxes road towards Dragonstone Airport.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was late, very late. Jon sat at his desk with Ghost curled at his feet. As soon as he landed he made his way to his friend Val’s to pick up Ghost before heading into the office. By the time he arrived, his team had already retired for the night. Jon glanced at the clock, it was nearing four in the morning. He leaned back from his desk, rubbing his palms over his tired eyes. 

 

Pyp had left the requested documents on his desk and Rhaegar had followed through with his request. The two pictures now resting side by side, with the printed itinerary. To put it simply, Dr. Daenerys Targaryen was stunning. She had the valyrian looks she shared with her brother and Aemon. The long silvery blond hair, the big violet eyes with a regal profile. The first photo was a casual photo of her sitting behind a lab bench. She wore a white lab coat with her silver locks cascaded down, pooling at her shoulders, her rose color lips held an easy smile with a hint of naivety in her serene expression.  

 

The other photo was a professional one, her hair was pulled back from her face into intricate braids, a small smile graced her pouty lips. The violet eyes stared at him behind a pair of angular horned rimmed glasses. To the untrained eye, the two pictures were similar but not exact however it was clear that they were the same person, removing the glasses, lengthen the hair. To the right person, it would be easy to determine who she was based on the images from the last videos.

 

“Shite,” Jon muttered to no one in particular. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something that was right in front of him. He held up the spartan itinerary, the words starting to blur. _You need rest_ , Jon shook the thought away, glancing at Ghost, who was now slumbering in the corner of his office. He did need rest, he barely slept over the past week and had been awake close to twenty hours.

 

The couch that Grenn had insisted be put in their shared office looked inviting. Jon relented to the inevitable as he shut down his computer and headed towards the couch. He plopped down, stretching the length of it, it wasn’t his bed but it would do. Just a quick nap he told himself as he flung his arm covering his eyes, slipping quickly into a deep sleep.

 

“Jon.”

 

“Jon.”

 

He shot up from the couch, glancing around. Davos stepped back with his hands up. “Just me lad, sorry been trying to wake you for ten minutes now.”

 

Jon sat up rubbing his face. “What time is it?”

 

“A little after seven thirty in the morning.”

 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I didn’t intend to sleep that long.”

 

Davos pulled over Grenn’s chair to sit across from him. "It looked like you could use it." He gave Jon a once over. "How long this time?" 

 

“Twenty hours.”

 

Davos whistled. “You’re pushing the limit Jon, Commander Mormont-”

 

“I know,” Jon cut him off. He knew exactly what Commander Mormont would tell him.

 

“He’s just worried about you son, we both are, especially after the Hardhome mission.”

 

Jon’s hand instinctively rubbed the lingering scars on his chest. Davos sighed. “Right well, I got your email, you still want to do the debriefing this morning?”

 

“Yes, is anyone else here yet?”

 

“Just Pyp, think he is close to discovering something, you know how he gets.”

 

Jon chuckled. Pyp could’ve had an easier life anywhere in Westeros with his computer skills and knowledge, but his views on the south led him to the Nights Watch to put his cyber hacking skills to some ‘positive use’. Even though the Nights Watch was a branch under the Northern Army and still consider under the Westerosi government’s authority, Pyp’s response as always was there is no bigger way to hide from ‘big brother’ than in plain sight by working for them.

 

Davos stood from his seat but stopped at Jon’s desk picking up a worn book. “A little light reading?”

 

Jon reached for the book as Davos handed it over. “Dr. Targaryen is in the Shadowlands, figured I read up on Asshai to see what she could be doing there." 

 

“Curiosity or do you think it has something to do with the case?”

 

Jon shrugged. He wasn’t sure but it was his gut feeling last night that prompted an impromptu visit to the Castle Black Library.

 

“Both,” he answered.

 

Davos gave a low chuckle, patting him on the shoulder.

 

Jon stiffly rose from the couch, stretching at the same time. He yawned. “I need coffee.”

 

“I’ll get the coffee, you,” he gestured at his rumpled appearance. “Get yourself presentable before Mormont gets in, I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t report you.”

 

“Thanks,” Jon patted the older man on his shoulder as he made his way towards the lower locker room.

 

* * *

 

Jon sat with his team in one of the older situation rooms near the basement. It had been the one they often used when they were full-time rangers. In preparation for the meeting, Grenn and Davos had taken the time to set up the whiteboard with what they had gathered so far on the investigation.

 

They had finished the debriefing forty minutes ago and were now reviewing the evidence. Jon sat back in his chair staring at the evidence board. “Sam, you said you have almost all the video’s transcribed?”

 

“Yes,” Sam laid a fourth large three-ring binder with the others in the middle of the table. “Most of it is of Maester Aemon mulling over thoughts and theories. He doesn’t discuss an exact experiment from what I can tell, but Pyp found another video and is decrypting now. There might be something in that one.”

 

“What is he talking about in the others?” Grenn asked.

 

“If I’m honest a lot of it goes over my head,” Sam replied. “But the general subject seems to be about the human genome, the possibility of decoding it and using that information to advance medical knowledge and practices. He even goes on about stem cell research and the possibility of fixing genetic mutations with gene splicing and vector theory.”

 

“Have you heard of this before?” Jon asked.

 

“Briefly during my training at the Citadel. The human genome was only recently decoded but gene splicing and vector theory are still hypothetical theories but that was five years ago. I haven’t exactly kept up with my subscription to The Westerosi Journal of Medicine.” He shrugged. “But, Maester Aemon was talking about these specific theories at least twenty years ago if not before.”

 

“What about the girl?” Tormund pointed out. “Did you find anything about her at Dragonstone?”

 

“Her name is Dr. Daenerys Targaryen, she is Aemon’s grandniece and is also in the field of biomedical research. She’s a physician that was trained in Meereen.”

 

“That makes sense, The Citadel still only trains men to be Maesters.” Sam pointed out.  

 

 “Have you been able to reach her?”

 

“No, I’ve sent an email last night and called her but no response yet. According to her itinerary, she should be in Asshai and per her brother has limited access when in Asshai.”

 

“What the hell is a physician let alone a scientist doing in Asshai? I thought they looked down on all things arcane?” Grenn asked.

 

Tormund shrugged. "Maybe she knows something we don't. Sam, didn't you say Aemon was blacklisted at the Citadel for believing in the higher mysteries and arcane practices?”

 

“Those were rumors, not sure what truth there is to it.”

 

“So, we have identified the girl in the video, we have videos that span at least a five-year timeframe, right?" Jon stood up and began to pace.

 

Sam nodded.

 

Jon stopped in front of the picture with the piercing violet eyes. “That still doesn’t tell us why Craster had these videos on a hidden hard drive.”

 

“I think I can help with that!” Pyp banged open the door, skidding to a stop. He marched over to the board and slammed a satellite picture on it.

 

“This is the northern woods above Craster’s keep, totally empty right…except there.” He pointed to a dark depression on the photo. “I didn’t think anything of it because it fell outside the radius I devised from my logarithm. To rule it out, I took a chance and crossed referenced this with a satellite thermal image and there’s a two to three-degree difference in this area, my bet is that there are a one or two cave entrances there. Now,” Pyp pulled out another two maps from his rucksack and unfolded them on the table.

 

“This is Craster’s and according to the schematics I found, the sub-basements aren’t directly under the keep but descending away from it towards the north.” Pyp laid the second transparent schematic over the satellite image.

 

“But it doesn’t line up,” Edd pointed out.

 

“It doesn’t but,” Pyp began to draw a winding path between landmarks on the map.  “I’m the idiot that didn’t take into consideration that there could be a path that led to the basements, the depression lines up where the entrance could be with the shortest and most direct route to the basements.” He finished with an exhaled.  “In other words-”

 

“You may have found the entrance,” Jon finished, his grey eyes darted over the maps, all the men stood up around the table. “Tormund, you’re familiar with this area, are there caves around there?”

 

“I haven’t been in that area since I was a child, it’s in an unpopulated area and off the grid. There are caves south of there, that I’m sure of, we would just need to go there and scout it out.”

 

Jon nodded, slapping Pyp on the back. “Good work, Davos said you were onto something. I will go update Commander Mormont. Everyone start preparing, once I return, we’re heading beyond the wall into the Northern Woods.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is part two of the single chapter i split into two. Two updates in one day? this is a record for me. 
> 
> Also in this hybrid AU modern Westeros, There is a difference between Maesters and medical physicians. Maesters are the equivalent to having a Doctorate but you cannot practice medicine. Medical physicians are doctors and can practice medicine. Aemon was both but is referred to as a Maester because he was trained at the Citadel. Daenerys is both but only referred to has a doctor because she was not trained at the Citadel. 
> 
> Hope that didn't cause any confusion, up next the sub-bassments. Hope you enjoyed my little fic so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what's in those sub-basements and travel to Asshai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to TheScarletGarden for looking this over when my convoluted mind couldn't make sense of it anymore. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this update, I'm not sure when the next one will be but know that it is being worked on. 
> 
> I've hinted to another fandom and based some of my descriptions of Asshai from that fandom, specifically where we find Daenerys Targaryen. If you catch it or recognize it, kudos to you. 
> 
> The origin of Asshai is from my overactive imagination.
> 
> Warning: There are discussions about victims and autopsy reports but not graphic descriptions. Just a heads up if that type of thing bothers you.

 

 I own nothing that you recognize. 

* * *

 

Commander Mormont had immediately approved their expedition into the Northern woods. Mormont disclosed that Craster’s defense attorney was pulling out all the stops for his client to be released on bond. Name attempts were proving fruitful since he started weakening Tyrion’s ironclad defense and as Mormont informed Jon ‘Find something to keep that bastard behind bars for life’.

 

Jon and Grenn now stood on the border of the grid Pyp had marked out of the depression from the satellite images. Edd dropped down from the tree, landing softly behind them. “I saw something that could potentially be a cave entrance, towards the east, half a click.”

 

The breaking twigs of the nearby bush preceded Tormund’s return from the ground survey. “The South is clear, so is the west.”

 

“I guess we check out what Edd found, eh?”

 

Jon nodded at Grenn. He tapped his earpiece. "Pyp, is there any way this entrance could be under brush?"

 

"That's a strong possibility like I said I didn't notice it till I ran it by the thermal imaging," he pipped in through their earpieces.

 

“Right, lead the way, Edd.”

 

They followed him into a denser area of the woods. Edd stopped in front of them. “It should be in this area,” he gestured outward.

 

“Spread out.”

 

The land was relatively flat but gradually sloped towards the west where the Fist of the First Men stood. Jon was scanning the area when his foot landed on something soft. He tested it again, there was a slight give to the ground below him. He whistled for the team, their heavy footfalls heading towards him. He stood adjacent to a pod of large overgrown evergreen trees. Jon brushed his boots across the ground several times, slowly revealing several planks of rotting wood. The group eyed each other before they descended onto the spot, quickly clearing it away.

 

The wooden planks were pulled away and once clear, they stood around looking at an inconspicuous metal hatch. Jon knelt down, pulling at the lock. Tormund settled next to him with a grin and a small explosive in his hand ready to go. Jon placed the plastic explosive around the lock, stepping back, while Tormund set it off with a modest explosion, barely disturbing the eerie silence in the forest. Tormund reached down to the now twisted door first, giving it two good pulls before yanking it open.

 

“Fucker is sturdy,” he said, stepping back with a whistle.

 

“Shit,” Grenn murmured as he stepped closer.

 

Jon moved to stand next to his team. The trapdoor opened into a gaping abyss. “How deep do you think it goes?”

 

Grenn stepped forward and dropped a flare into the hole. The flare fell for a moment before landing on the ground below it, illuminating the bottom and a hidden ladder.

 

Jon tapped his ear. “We found the entrance Pyp, how deep do you think we will have to go before we lose contact?”

 

“Depends, your locator work up to 800m underground, I can still monitor you with your sensors but no communication. You’ll be blind.”

 

“Shite, thanks,” Jon muttered, giving his team an apprehensive look.

 

“After you, boss,” Tormund smiled.

 

Jon smirked, shaking his head. He glanced up to see Sam wavering in the sidelines.

 

“Sam, go ahead and set up your medical gear and if we’re not back in ninety minutes, notify Mormont. If anyone comes out you know what to do.” Sam nodded as he started pulling out his medical supplies, setting up a triage tent just adjacent to the hatch. Sam quickly finished and walked over, adjusting his carbine to monitor the hatch. Jon took a deep breath giving one last look to the rickety ladder before heaving himself over the edge, descending into the cave.

 

Jon was halfway down when he heard an ominous crack. He stilled for a moment, his breathing even.

 

“You alright, Jon?” Grenn yelled down.

 

He adjusted his grip, slowly lowering himself down another rung of the ladder. He tested it first with a light bounce of his foot, slowly resting his full weight on it. He looked down, he still had at least twenty feet to go before he even reached the bottom.

 

“Yeah,” he yelled back up. He marked the cracked rung with an iridescent marker. “Just skip the rung I marked, it’s almost rotted through.”

 

Jon could hear Tormund grumbling above him, something about breaking his leg on a damn ladder. A few minutes later, Jon dropped down, landing on the leaf-covered ground. He pulled out his flashlight, shining it around into the open void. There was a passage off to his right that was solid rock; to his left and in front of him were two narrow openings that sloped downward. Jon checked the passageway to his right, he made it only a few feet before it dropped off. Jon kicked a rock over the edge, listening for the ground, but a splash of water answered him instead. “Flooded,” he murmured to himself.

 

He tapped his earpiece. “Pyp, still there?”

 

“I can barely make you out boss, but I’m here.”

 

“I’m in the cave, it looks like the northwest path is flooded, we’re heading southwest, correct?”

 

“Yes, head in a south or south-western direction. The path may meander off to the east, but if you come to another divide continue to head south, that should be the shortest path to the basements.” 

 

“Thanks, Pyp. Over and out.” He tapped his earpiece. “We have a heading, come on down.”

 

They had lost Pyp ten minutes before and had been walking for a total of forty minutes. The air was becoming stagnant and stale the further they went. Jon was in the lead, with Tormund taking up the rear. The walls were solid rock but were damp with moisture. The cave was narrow but looked like it had been cleared out, the walls were rough but, as Tormund observed, it looked like someone cleared a natural cave and made it passable. They had come upon a split in the cave a few meters back, another path that would take them directly south. Grenn had scouted it out,  reporting back that it was caved in.

 

“See anything up ahead?” Edd asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Shit, I was hoping you would say a dead end and we could get out of this fucker.”

 

Grenn laughed. “I forgot, aren’t you claustrophobic?”

 

“No, I just don’t like small spaces with a thousand tons of earth above me.”

 

“What’s the difference, Edd?” Jon shot back.

 

Edd scoffed.

 

“I know a small space you like, Edd, just like a seal” Tormund cracked, shoving the smaller man forward.

 

Edd scoffed. “Fuck off, Tormund.”

 

“Hold!” Jon raised his fist. The group stopped. Jon stepped away towards a rusted metal door in front of them.

 

“Is it locked?”

 

"Yeah." Jon looked around. "Too tight and risky for one of your explosives. Grenn, did you bring the crowbar?"

 

“Yes.” Grenn moved around Jon to inspect the door. “It’s rusted pretty good.” He gave the door a good tug and felt it shift on the hinges. Dropping his rucksack to the ground, he crouched in front of it. A minute later he pulled out a large glass bottle. “A little Hydrochloric acid and force should work.”

 

Grenn set to work while the others waited. There was a loud clang of metal followed by a whoosh of cold air rushing past them, telling them Grenn was successful. Jon signaled for them to have their weapons ready and put their night vision goggles on. He took the point with Grenn behind him and entered the room first.

 

It was pitch black, with a quick scan he was able to see that the room was empty of any living person. Jon saw a power box on the nearest wall and stalked over to it. He fumbled for a minute before the hum of power and slow flickering of lights met the team. “Clear,” Jon yelled.

 

The team made their way into the room. It had several desks covered with years of dust, with ancient computers sitting on them. Tormund made his way over to one and picked up a notebook. “The date on this is from twenty years ago. Looks like it is written in a different language.”

 

Edd moved over towards Tormund, taking the notebook from his hands. “It’s Valyrian”

 

Tormund reached over and picked up another piece of paper. “This is Old Tongue”  

 

“You think this is where his operation started?” Grenn asked.

 

“Possibly. Grenn and Edd, you check to see if you find anything on those useful to Pyp” Jon eyes landed on another door in the west corner of the room. “Tormund, with me.”

 

The second door easily popped open, revealing a smaller room that looked to be used for storage. There were boxes stacked up all the way to the ceiling. Tormund grabbed the closest one, opening it with his knife, sifting through its contents.

 

“For a human trafficker, this fucker was organized.” Tormund pulled out a file. “He kept track of them like cattle, numbers and everything, this shit probably goes back for years. But why keep it?”

 

"In case he needed to move operations and start up again," Jon answered, remembering Bear Island. He opened the nearest box, scanning its contents. He pulled out a bag out.

 

Tormund dropped the file he was holding. “Shit is that?”

 

“Shade of the evening.” Jon tossed the dark blue powder over to Tormund.

 

“I didn’t know you could get it outside of Essos.”

 

“You can if you know who to get it from, gets a high price on the black market.”

 

“Why in the hell would he have it sitting here?” Tormund asked.

 

Jon shrugged. “You notice it’s not as dusty as upstairs, Craster had someone moving around in here recently.”

 

Tormund glanced over the stacks of boxes. “Last door,” he gestured over Jon’s shoulder.

 

Said door had a bio-lock on it. Thankfully, Pyp had prepared a backup plan in case they came across another one. Jon removed the silver card and found the panel slot behind the lock Pyp instructed him to look for. He slid the card in and watched the light change from red to green.

 

The door silently slid open. Jon pulled on the handle, fully opening it.  The room was long, with a low ceiling and hanging lights. The walls were tiled green, there was a scent of stale disinfectant in the air. He moved into the room, noticing two empty metal gurneys situated in the middle.

 

“What in seven hells?”

 

Jon quickly moved further into the area. It was an examination room, similar to the one Sam utilized back at Castle Black. It was clean, spotless, missing the layers of dust the previous rooms held.

 

“Someone has recently been here.” Jon walked over to the nearest cabinet and started opening the drawers with Tormund following behind him, opening cabinets. The sounds of the slamming of cabinets brought Edd and Grenn to them.

 

“Hey, we found- Holy shite.” Edd stopped, taking in the room.

 

Grenn pushed him aside and picked up a jar from a nearby shelf that housed a preserved hand.

 

“What in the hell?”

 

“I don’t know but I’m just looking for anything,” Jon ordered.

 

There was a sense of urgency in the air causing the men to search the entire room at a reckless pace, sifting through the boxes and cabinets until they stood breathing heavily in the ramshackle space. They had found no notes, no binders, nothing that gave any hint to what the room was used for, except for a few preserved specimens and a box of slides marked tissues samples. It was cleared of any evidence.

 

“Jon.”

 

Edd looked over his shoulder, standing in front of the metal table that was situated against the wall. It had a few empty jars on it, but it was what Jon noticed behind it that made him understand the strain in Edd’s voice. Behind the table was a steel door that was blended perfectly into the surrounding wall, easily missed during their frantic search. Tormund and Grenn pushed the table to the side. Jon moved, now standing in front of the door.

 

“Jon, do you think we should open it, there could be –“

 

“Yes,” Jon cut Grenn off, placing his hand on the door. It easily opened. A blast of cold air rush past him, instantly cooling the sweat on his brow. Jon stepped into the void, his right hand searching for the familiar switch, flicking the walk-in freezer light on. There were six cubicles in front of him. The hatches opened, revealing them to be empty, all except two. Jon strode in, a sense of dread settling into the pit of his stomach. He pulled open the first one, finding it empty.

 

He hesitated with his hand hovering over the second hatch. An image of silver hair and violet eyes flickered through his mind. _Do you think she’s in danger?_ Rhaegar's voice echoed in his thoughts.

 

Jon shook the memory from his head, focusing as he slowly pulled the hatch open. His breathing hitched as he tried to exhale. “Edd, get to the surface and get Sam down here. Now!” he ordered, glancing down at the soiled silver blond hair. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon stood in the open air of the northern forest as he watched the CSI team bring up another body bag.

 

“How many is it?”

 

“Seven, sir.”

 

Commander Mormont stood next to him, both men closely watching the scene unfolding before them in the unassuming northern woods. Edd was the first to make it back to the surface, notifying Sam of their discovery. While waiting, Tormund had found another hidden door behind a false wall that led to another freezer. The Castle Black CSI team responded quickly and were currently processing the sub-basement while Pyp was attempting to unlock the entrance at the far end of the second freezer that connected the sub-basements to Craster's Keep. The knot in Jon's stomach was tightening, his jaw slowly grinding his teeth as he watched men in biohazard suits descending down into the cave.

 

"Sir, "Pyp walked up to them, his face grim. "I finally cracked it and deactivated the bio-lock. Grenn and I checked the path leading to the keep. It's clear but it isn't direct either and not nearly as narrow as this entrance. The teams can enter from there and process the scene faster."

 

“Good, I will alert Agent Rykker. Thank you, Pyp,” Mormont responded.

 

Pyp’s eye flicked over to Jon, who silently nodded, leaving him to head back over to Sam’s tent.

 

“I verbally updated Commander Lannister and Tyrion. Tyrion seemed most pleased, almost relieved that you were able to crack this.” Mormont brought a heavy hand down on his shoulder.

 

“This is enough to lock him under the Dragon Pit and throw away the key.” He glanced down. “But that isn’t it, is it?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Dr. Targaryen?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Jon turned towards him. “It’s a hunch sir, I can’t shake that something is wrong and that this is bigger than what we think it is.”

 

Mormont nodded. “It is possible.” He seemed to waver a moment before speaking again. “Your hunches have never served you wrong in the past, your instinct saved lives at Hardhome.”

 

Mormont paused, looking past Jon. Jon turned to see another team exit the cave. “What do you suggest?”

 

“Go to Asshai, see if I can connect with her and get her opinion on the videos.” Jon paused. “We still don’t know what Maester Aemon was theorizing, her brother even confirmed that she was close to proving one of Aemon’s theories, it’s a stretch-”

 

‘But worth looking into,” Mormont finished his thought. “I’ll see what I can do on my end, traveling to the Shadowlands, let alone Asshai, is difficult. I will see what I can arrange.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon found himself wandering through the basement catacombs of Castle Black towards the examination room Sam had reserved. It had been almost a week since what they discovered in the sub-basements. As he got closer to the lab, he hoped Sam had some news for him. He opened the door to see his friend hunched over a microscope.

 

“Sam, you mentioned you have an update? Are the final reports ready?”

 

Sam looked away from the microscope. “Update, yes, but I only have the preliminary reports. I’m still waiting for Maester Ambrose to finalize them, but I thought you should take a look,” Sam replied, handing over the autopsy reports.

 

Jon flipped through them. Three men and four women, all of varying age and races. “What’s the common factor?”

 

"That's the strange part." Sam sat down, motioning Jon to do the same. "Physically, nothing links them together, however, they all had some type of experimentation done on them, pre and post mortem."

 

Sam pulled one of the reports away from Jon, flipping to the last page. “Look at the cause of death.”

 

Jon took the report away from Sam, he assumed it would still be unknown. “Cardiac arrest?”

 

"More like extreme cardiac arrest, Maester Ambrose performed the autopsies." Sam pointed to several values on the chart. "Their electrolytes are off the chart, it's like their hearts were fried. Ambrose even found what looks like extreme cardiac burns on the heart itself."

 

“Burns? Pre or post?”

 

“Pre on three, the rest were post.”

 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Exactly, and it only gets stranger.” Sam pulled out the last file. “I noticed another thing they did have in common.”

 

“What?”

 

“I was mounting the pathology slides for further testing and that’s when I noticed that most of their cells were mutated.”

 

 _“_ Mutated?”  Jon's understanding of biology was limited to the basics.

 

 “Yes, I mean, cell mutation is actually really common, it occurs more often than we think, it's really fantastic, actually. Did you know-”

 

“Sam...”

 

“Sorry, right,” Sam continued. “The difference is that these types of mutations don’t look like hereditary gene mutations or even spontaneous mutations we would normally occur in the general population. Maester Ambrose thinks they were caused by an outside source, almost like-”

 

“They were infected?”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“What did Ambrose say?” Jon questioned.

 

Sam shrugged. “He didn’t understand it either, he sent a few slides to the Citadel for additional review, but Jon... whatever this is, I’ve never seen anything like this… ever. This could be a new pathogen we’re dealing with or a mutated common cold or something along those lines, the possibilities are endless.”

 

“Thanks, Sam.” Jon patted him on the shoulder. “Let me know if you find anything else and when you get the final reports in.”

 

Sam nodded and returned to his work. Jon left the lab behind him as he jogged towards his office. The new information only adding to his urgency on the matter. He needed to get to Asshai and Dr. Targaryen now.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a difficult twenty-four hours since his meeting Sam and even more arduous week since the discovery in the secret lab. The revelation of the sub-basements had been the final nail in Craster's coffin. Tyrion had been almost giddy when he told them that Judge Tyrell had rejected his bail and that he was currently being held without it. It was going to be a long battle but Tyrion felt that with the additional evidence and the depositions Missandei was able to secure from the victims, Craster was going to be buried under the Harrenhal.

 

Mormont was able to cut through the bureaucratic bullshit and get Jon an expedited escort to Asshai. Jon currently sat at this desk, reviewing paperwork while waiting for his escort to arrive.

 

There was a light knock at his door. “Hello.”

 

Jon looked up from the paperwork to see Missandei standing opposite his desk. “Missandei?” he replied with a surprised tone, standing up to shake her hand.

 

“I didn’t expect to see  you here, I thought you’d be in King's Landing assisting Tyrion.”

 

She smiled and sat down in front of him. “I was, but Commander Mormont contacted me about your trip to Asshai.”

 

Jon halted, Missandei had been an integral part of this team for years, but she wasn’t part of the Night's Watch. She was also a personal friend. “You’re my escort to the Shadowlands?”

 

“It looks that way,” she smiled. “Don’t worry, Jon, I’ve been escorting travelers to the Shadowlands for years.” She passed him a folder she had been holding.

 

Jon looked over Missandei’s credentials and clearance letter. “I never knew you did this too?”

 

Missandei laughed. “It’s one of the requirements for my home office in Meereen. I haven’t escorted a traveler in a few years, However,” Her hands rested in her lap. “Our usual travel escort Vaerion Celtalos is out for six months so that just leaves me."

 

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “It could be dangerous and I won’t put you in that type of situation. I will ask Commander Mormont to request an escort from another office.”

 

“You could but the Council of Asshai just recently revoked the Westeros' offices travel permits. It’s becoming more difficult to travel to Asshai ever since they closed their borders.”

 

It was true, Asshai's mystique came from the unknown knowledge of what exactly existed there and the surrounding Shadowlands and beyond. It was the last place where the arcane mysteries and sciences were still practiced and taught. Getting into Asshai took time and effort. To get approval from their Red Council that was notorious for denying most, if not all, requests were borderline impossible these days. The most direct route was to use approved travel escorts to travel to the Shadowlands but even that was a risk, with the Council randomly revoking escorts' travel visas.

 

Jon let out a heavy sigh, there was no other way except to wait and that was a risk he couldn’t take. “I guess I am stuck with you?”

 

Missandei shrugged with a light chuckle. “That you are, Jon.” 

 

“What do I need to do?”

 

“Nothing.” Missandei took the folder from Jon’s hands, pulling a page from it. “I just received notification today that our travel was approved by the Red Council. I just have to accompany you at all times while in Asshai. We are scheduled for the next flight to Qarth tonight.”

 

“Good,” Jon murmured. He would need to make arrangements for Ghost and finish packing. 

 

"As your travel escort, you have to disclose to me the reason for your travel. Commander Mormont mentioned it had something to do with the Craster investigation?"

 

“Have you heard of a Dr. Daenerys Targaryen?”

 

He watched as her brow furrowed, her brown eyes studying him. “Where did you hear that name? I’ve never heard it associated with the Craster investigation before.”

 

“During the initial seize and arrest, Pyp discovered encrypted videos of Aemon Targaryen in Craster’s possession. We were able to identify her on those videos.”

 

“Aemon Targaryen is the reason we have a treatment for butterfly fever in Essos. I briefly met Daenerys in Qarth. She was called in to help with a patient that my group was following, the child had a rare disease, still not exactly sure what it was but she was brought in for a consult."

 

“And the child?”

 

Missandei shook her head. “He didn’t survive. Why would Craster have those videos? Aemon Targaryen disappeared years ago.”

 

“That’s what I’m hoping Dr. Targaryen will shed some insight on.” 

 

“Have you attempted to contact her?”

 

“I have sent multiple emails, but nothing. I notified her brother this morning and he admitted he's starting to get worried.” 

 

Jon moved around to the other side of this desk, picking up the itinerary. He smiled at his old friend. Gesturing to follow him out of the office.

 

Missandei followed out of the office, walking beside him down the hallway. “Off to another adventure? Is it always this way with the Nights Watch or is it just you Jon?”

 

Jon chuckled. “It’s probably just me, Let’s go, we have a plane to catch. ”

 

* * *

 

The calm undulation of the Jade Sea gently rocked the ship. Jon stood on the bow of the ship, looking out on the calm water. In the distance, he noticed a dark shadow encroaching the horizon, spreading outwards the closer they sailed towards their destination. They arrived in Qarth the day before. There was little time to adjust to the climate or time change before they boarded the only permitted travel to the Shadowlands besides road caravan. It was by chance that he finally received a correspondence, not from Dr. Targaryen, but from her brother Rhaegar. He was finally able to reach her and inform her that they were on their way to Asshai to meet. While she tried to dissuade them from making unnecessary travel to Asshai, Rhaegar had assured her that it wasn't a hindrance but a necessity. After some goading from her brother, she hesitantly agreed to meet with them at the Black Gate in Asshai.  

 

Jon felt the sea spray being blocked on his left. He looked over to see that Missandei had joined him on the bow. She looked less green after the choppy waters they encountered leaving the straits of Qarth.

 

“How’s Grey?”

 

"Good, he sends his us well wishes."

 

“Is he still commanding the Unsullied?”

 

“Yes, he just received his official officers' recognition of service. He also mentioned a rematch the next time you’re in Meereen.” 

 

Jon chuckled. It was by chance that he bested the stealthy Grey in hand-to-hand combat. It even surprised Jon that he caught the man off guard, sending him to the sandpit under them. Grey had been itching for a rematch for years now. “We’ll see.”

 

Missandei laughed, shaking her head. She looked off into the darkening horizon.

 

“Do you know the story behind Asshai?” she asked.

 

“Besides what old Nan used to tell us growing up, not really.”

 

“The true origins of Asshai are lost to history, not even those on the Red Council can agree on the exact origin of the city, but the legend says it’s where the first dragon came from.”

 

She cleared her throat and continued. “They say the earth cracked open like a Basilisk egg spewing forth fire and ash birthing the first dragon. The elders of the two nearby villages Stygai and Asshai made a deal with the dragon to protect them from the outsiders and teach them the higher mysteries and in return, they would do a yearly sacrifice to the appease the dragon. The years passed and the people of Asshai, Stygai and soon the rest of the Shadowlands became practitioners of all arcane mysteries such as elementals, divination, skinwalkers, necromancy, alchemy and blood magic. The Asshari grew in power and it was said at one point they were more powerful than the ancient Valyrians and Old Ghis empire combined.” 

 

Missandei glanced over at Jon. “They were on their way to becoming the most powerful empire in the east. That was until they made a grievous mistake. They grew complacent and instead of bringing a sacrifice from Sothroyros, they presented the dragon with a Valyrian slave and the two instantly bonded.”

 

She tapped the side of her head. “She told them of the atrocities being done by the Asshari in the lands beyond and with that the dragon laid waste to Stygai and almost destroyed Asshai but instead decided to curse the city and their surrounding lands into darkness. Belching acrid smoke into the air, killing thousands and cloaking the city in eternal shadow.”

 

Jon looked over as she finished her story. “And you believe that?” he asked, he learned long ago that myths often held some truth to them.

 

“Possibly, for years people feared Asshai and the Shadowlands because of this but there is no evidence that dragons even existed. The omnipresent shadow and polluted water is probably a result of the active lava fields on the other side of the cliffs and Stygi was destroyed when the volcano erupted and collapsed on itself.”

 

She spread her hands out wide, gesturing towards the approaching port city. "It could all be just a natural phenomenon, no magic, no mystery, just a regular port city."

 

Jon laughed. “Your version is better.”

 

The ship dipped slightly as the water suddenly grew choppy, the wind turning cooler, whipping past them.

 

"We're getting closer," Missy murmured to herself. "The weather always shifts the closer we get to Asshai.  By the looks of it, I'd say we'll be docking in two hours, maybe three, depending on the weather. It would be best to start getting prepared for our arrival."

 

He saw a look of unease settle into her features, one that he wasn’t accustomed to seeing on the Naathi from working with her over the years.

 

He leaned forward, catching the sun rays glinting off the dark blue ocean surface. "Are you nervous?"

 

She shook her head. “No, Asshai is just different. I just hope we can find Dr. Targaryen and return to the Nights Watch.”

 

Jon nodded. He was hoping for the same thing, too. The innate instinct was a driving force to travel all this for someone he never met, nor corresponded with. _There’s a reason behind the drive and you know it’s because of the investigation,_ he assured himself. Missandei gently tapped his elbow, gesturing for him to follow her as they both went below deck to prepare for their arrival. 

 

* * *

 

They stood out on the docks, the pungent sea air wafting around them. Whatever Jon expected when they docked in Asshai, this was not it. The tales old Nan used to tell them as kids filled his head with dark terrible lands where fire and smoke demons hid in the cracks and crevices, ready to snatch an inattentive child off the street.

 

In fact, it was just a dreary port city. The low clouds did make the shadows longer, but there was no shadow demons, or fire mages wielding fire seducing them into their parlor. What Jon saw was a gloomy seaport, where the citizens had their faces cloaked and hidden, going about their business.

 

“Were you expecting more?”

 

Jon chuckled, "Old Nan's stories outdid themselves."

 

"See, it's just a regular seaport city, nothing to be scared of," she laughed as she led the way through the winding streets. What Jon did notice was that the streets were oddly quiet. There were vendors and a few scattered pedestrians, but all transactions were silent. Jon studied the masked patrons as they exchanged goods.

 

Missy pulled on his arm, “Cover your head,” she whispered.

 

Jon readjusted his hood, cloaking his face in shadow. “This is an odd tradition.”

 

“It is said that in Asshai all business is welcome no matter how depraved, there is no judge in Asshai except yourself.”

 

 _Interesting._ Jon followed Missy in silence as they traversed through the city's winding streets. Purposefully maneuvering along the black walls to reach the higher tiers of the city, Jon thought he saw a shadow dart down the walkway in front of them. 

 

“Head down and keep walking,” Missy whispered.

 

They approached an opening along a sharp embankment, a sentry ledge stood empty, providing a view of the city. Jon looked down. The city below him was slowly coming to life, he could see the twinkling of lights and fires, the shadowy movement of the citizens below. The harbor was now full of ships, loading and unloading goods. He checked his watch and looked up into the sky. _There should be more light, it’s barely past three,_ he thought. Jon looked over to Missy standing beside him as she glanced up at the darkening sky. 

 

“I wasn’t joking when I said the sun doesn’t shine on Asshai. We arrived at the brightest part of the day, it will only get darker.”

 

Jon stepped off the sentry point, back onto the cobblestone path. “We need to hurry and reach the Black Gate soon. We don’t want to be on the streets once twilight passes.”

 

It was only a few minutes later that they reached their destination, the highest point of the city. The city leveled out onto a flat plane, spreading in both directions. Behind them stood the homes of the affluent Asshari and the seat of the Red Council. In front of them stood a large ornate wrought iron gate, set in the same aged onyx stone that the city rose from. On the other side, Jon could make out the dim outlines of several buildings.

 

 _So this is the infamous Black Gate, home to the arcane Maester's guild houses._ Jon leaned forward, looking for any movement beyond the gate but saw none. It appeared that the entire campus was deserted. The only light was stemming from the illuminating lights inside the guild houses. Missy returned from the gatehouse, followed by a man in black robes. He stood in front of the gate, Jon watched as he pushed back the sleeves of his robes, revealing two heavily tattooed arms. Hands outstretched in front of him, he gripped the iron gate. The silence of the evening was interrupted by the sound of a low guttural groan as the gates briefly glowed red, the whine of metal echoing around them as they slowly opened.   

 

Once open, he covered his hands again, waving them through. “Head directly to the last building on your left before the cliffs. You can’t miss it. Dr. Harquinne will meet you there.”

 

Missandei and Jon walked along the stone path under the shadow of looming structures towards the large gothic building near the cliffs. Once they entered he was surprised to see how modern it looked on the inside, compared to the esoteric architecture of the buildings that covered the campus.

 

They stood in a softly lit room with a row of chairs pushed against the wall. Jon sat down, while Missandei stood in front of the bookcase.

 

“Anything of interest?”

 

She shook her head, causing her hood to slip. “A lot of old text that I’m sure Sam would love to get his hands on.”

 

The clicking of heels on the floor alerted them of the approaching of a visitor. Jon stood as a woman walked quickly towards them, the sound of her black robes muffling the tapping of her heels. She removed her hood, smiling at them, her blue eyes bright but sharp. There was something jarring about her, an almost predatory feeling that Jon couldn’t put his finger on.

 

“Hello,” she extended her hand. Jon shook it first before she turned to Missandei.

 

 “I’m Dr. Harquinne, I’ve been working with Dr. Targaryen since her arrival in Asshai. She asked that I bring you back to her lab. Please follow me.”

 

They returned with Dr. Harquinne down the long hallways, soon reaching a padlocked door. She removed a key, unlocking it and allowing Jon and Missandei to enter first, then closing it and locking it behind them.  

 

_Odd._

 

She turned and smiled at them. “I’m sorry but our policy is only one visitor at a time to the labs.”

 

Jon glanced over to Missandei, who appeared to have known this would happen. She nodded with a polite smile.

 

“Of course,” She moved, settling into a nearby plush armchair in the hallway. She removed her phone. “I’ll meet you back here, Jon.”

 

Jon nodded, leaving Missandei behind as Dr. Harquinne led him down another long dimly lit hallway. All the doors they passed were closed and denoted no activity. He could hear chanting coming from behind the few doors that were illuminated, but besides that, it was quiet with the occasional droning message in Valyrian. Dr. Harquinne lead them past a pair of ‘out of service’ elevators.

 

“Been a nightmare with these out of service. The staff isn’t allowed to use the patient's elevators so only other option is taking the stairs. Thankfully, Dr. Targaryen’s office is only two floors up.”

 

Jon continued to follow her, taking in his odd surroundings. Maybe Nan's stories were embellished but this had to be the oddest hospital he’d ever been to.

 

“This is a fully functional hospital?” Jon asked as he jogged up the steps behind her.

 

"More of a research hospital, for some this is the last resort for any type of intervention to save them."

 

“And you practice the arcane here too?”

 

Dr. Harquinne opened the door onto the second floor. She stopped, turning towards Jon.

 

“I know how you Westerosi think, looking down at the arcane practices thinking it’s just parlor tricks but did you ever think that what is now accepted as science was once thought of as magic?” she asked, her arms across her chest in defiance. 

 

When Jon didn’t respond she clicked her teeth. She smiled, her teeth glinting in the dim lighting.

 

“That’s why Dr. Targaryen's work is so important. She explores the ‘what ifs’ that the close-minded good Maesters of the Citadel looked down on.”

 

“You speak from personal experience.”

 

“I do,” she answered and turned away, ending the conversation. They entered a different section of the hospital with a white floor and low hanging lights. There were doors on either side of the hallway. Jon could see a few people inside, wearing grey hooded robes. They proceeded to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of a closed door next to a window overlooking the jagged cliffs below.  She knocked hard on the door, before slowly opening it.

 

The office was slightly cluttered, with a window looking out over the now dark grey sky. There were several neat stacks of notebooks and a microscope sitting on a lab bench under a hood.

 

“She told me she would be right back,” Dr. Harquinne muttered next to him. “Wait here, she might have left to check on a patient.”

 

The door closed behind him, leaving Jon alone. He paced around the claustrophobic space, a far cry from the open, modern office he saw at Dragonstone. He ventured over to a nearby bookcase, taking in the titles, most on esoteric studies of fire mages, necromancy, shadowbinders, and blood mages. Jon's eyes caught a specific title when he recognized the author's name. He pulled it from the shelf, opening it and beginning to read.

 

“You know there are only two copies of those in existence.”

 

The sudden sound startled him. He was so engrossed in the book, he hadn't heard her enter the room. Jon looked up, catching the elusive Dr. Daenerys Targaryen studying him behind a pair of black tortoise glasses with piercing but curious violet eyes. She was petite, the top of her head just reaching his chin. She had the same silvery blond hair as her brother, pulled back from her face into a complex braid design tucked into the hood of her grey robe. She tilted her head to the side,  her full lips in a slight pout.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Snow, I presume?”

 

"Yes." He shook away the haze as he moved away from the bookcase extending his hand, she shook it. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Dr. Targaryen."

 

“I’m sorry you had to travel this far for something I’m not exactly sure I can help with.” She moved to sit behind her desk, gesturing for Jon to take a seat as well. “Rhaegar said you found a video?”

 

“He mentioned the video?”  

 

“Yes.” Jon noticed a slight look of annoyance cross her features. “Sorry, it’s just that Rhaegar has done this before when I was in a remote village in the Dothraki Sea doing research. He couldn’t get in contact with me so he sent my ex-husband’s blood riders to find me. Only, this time I don’t respond to a few emails and he sends the Night's Watch.”

 

“It was more than a few missed emails that brought me here, Dr. Targaryen.”

 

A small smile quirked her full lips.

 

“Please, call me Daenerys.” She leaned forward on the desk. “Rhae also mentioned that the video is from a set that is missing from my Uncle Aemon’s collection.”

 

“It is.” Jon pulled up on his phone the video that Pyp sent.

 

“May I?”

 

Jon nodded, handing over his phone. She started the video, her eyes widening.

 

“Oh wow,” she laughed lightly. “That is me, I remember this video. This was the summer that Aemon allowed me to do my own experiments. I nearly burned down his lab,” she laughed, handing the device back to Jon.

 

“But again, what does this have to do with me and why travel all this way?”

 

Jon contemplated disclosing exactly what brought them there. He glanced around the room, _it’s not secure enough, anybody could be listening._

 

“Do you know what he is talking about? Gene splicing? Cell correction?”

 

There was a short pause as Dr. Targaryen appeared to mull over his questions. "I'm familiar with the theories he is talking about but I would need to see the other videos to understand the context he is referring to."

 

“We’ve found almost sixty videos, we’re currently trying to put them in order.”

 

“Who is reviewing them?”

 

“One of my team that is a Maester in training.”

 

Daenerys scoffed and stood up. “Those Maesters wouldn't know what Aemon was talking about if it jumped up and bit them in the ass."

 

Jon bit back a chuckle. “Why do you say that?” He was starting to understand what Dr. Harquinne was referring to earlier about the relationship between the Citadel and Dr. Targaryen's work in Asshai and elsewhere in Essos.

 

“Aemon was long done with the Maesters when this video was done. They believe his theories and work were nonsense. They all but dismissed his life work and disputed all of it thereafter unless it benefited them.”

 

“The cure for Greyscale.”

 

“Exactly!” Jon knew he hit a nerve when she all but slammed her fist into the table. 

 

“Aemon had just set up what would become the Targaryen biomedical research facility with my father to continue his work away from the Citadel. The Maesters have no records of those experiments.”

 

She leaned back from the desk, her cheeks flush. “No one trained by the Citadel would have an understanding of what is on those videos, let alone ascertain why someone would have them.”

 

“Would you be willing to help us, then?”

 

"I would if you are willing to tell me why these videos brought you to Asshai."

 

Jon huffed, leaning back against the chair. He had no other choice. “Is your office secure?”

 

Dr. Targaryen's brow furrowed. She looked around before standing up and opening the door. She closed it, settling back down behind her desk. “It’s secure enough but I need something to go on if I’m going to help.”

 

Jon chewed on his bottom lip and sighed, anxiously scratching at his beard. “The videos were found in the possession of a human trafficker in the Northern territories in Westeros, there is a possibility that he tested Aemon’s theories on human subjects and I need your expertise to prove this.”

 

Dr. Targaryen let out a slow exhale. She fidgeted with the worn edge of her grey robe. “I need to get a few things in order but I can meet you in Dragonstone by the next week.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Targaryen.” He stood up to shake her hand. She stood up as well. Jon took her small warm hand in his.

 

“I will let you know, Lieutenant Commander Snow, when I have my leave itinerary confirmed.”

 

“Thank you again, Dr. Targaryen.” He let go of her hand. “And please, call me Jon.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be in touch, Jon.” There was a faint sparkle in her violet gaze. “Dr. Harquinne should be waiting for you at the end of the hallway.” 

 

Jon bid hid goodbyes but before leaving, he left Dr. Targaryen his direct contact information should anything come up in the meantime. She assured him she would be fine and doubted she would require it but thanked him none the less. The walk back to Missandei was quiet and brief. Dr. Harquinne offered no conversation. Jon reached Missandei as she appeared to be dozing in the chair. Dr. Harquinne bid them goodbye with a feral smile, leaving them to make their way back across the campus.

 

The trip to the inn didn't take nearly as long as it did when they passed it on their way to the Black Gate. They were able to check into their separate but conjoined rooms. Missandei decided to forgo the inn's complimentary dinner to call Grey and get some rest before they left in the morning. Jon found that meal more filling than flavorful. He too decided to turn in early. The lack of daylight was having its effect on him and to remedy it he needed to rest. After a hot shower, Jon padded across the room, settling in his bed before turning off the lights, the muted sounds of the city filtered through the window, lulling him into a deep sleep.

 

It was cold, an unnatural cold that bore straight to his bones. “Jon” a voice ghosted past his ear, a chill tickling his bare chest.

 

“Jon!”

 

Jon shot up in the bed, his chest heaving, running his hand through his sweat-damp hair. He squinted, his gaze darting around the dark room, the dim glow of the city from the window the only light illuminating the space. He was alone, the room empty, the door to Missandei’s closed.

 

He slowed down his breathing, the thundering of his heart in his ears slowing to a muted roar. Jon laid down back in the bed. He turned to the side and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. Glancing at the time, he could see it was four twenty-seven in the morning.

 

He huffed in annoyance, throwing an arm over his eyes as he attempted to get the last few hours of rest before they left.

 

Jon’s phone began to buzz on the table. He picked up the vibrating nuisance to see a number he didn’t recognize.

 

“Hello?” he answered.

 

“Hello? LC Snow?”

 

Jon sat up, pressing the phone to his ear. “Dr. Targaryen?”

 

“Jon, I-“ she started. “Something has happened and I need you to come now.”

 

Now standing, Jon began to get dressed, his sleepiness gone. “Where are you?”

 

She provided him with an address that he prayed Missandei would be familiar with. “Alright, Daenerys, I’m on my way.”

 

Jon shoved the remaining clothes in his bag, knocking on the adjoining door, which Missandei opened after a minute, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

 

“Jon?”

 

“Hey, Miss, we have to go. Dr. Targaryen just called me, something happened.”

 

Missandei moved quicker than he expected and it was only a few minutes later that the two were checking out of the inn, heading back towards the Black Gate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my laptop for a couple of years now but for another fandom and it just didn't work into the fic im writing there, so fast forward to earlier this year and it clicked. I don't have a schedule set for updates, but I have the next few chapters already drafted. I'm excited about this one and where it's going, hopefully you will be too. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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